TG, cd, TS, mm, mf, teen, incest §§§§§§§§
From: an222260@anon.penet.fi (Tristmegistis)
Date: Wed, 20 Dec 1995 14:41:35 UTC
Subject: Looking for Love (TG, in, et.al.) by Tristmegistis
I threw this together after having read one of those dreamy TG
genre pieces ("Diane" by Karen Elizabeth L. (KarenTV720)). As
those of you who've read my stuff before know, I'm a little less, ah,
subtle than many writers. I get *way* graphic. My version pretty
well stands alone, but reading Karen Elizabeth's nicely done prequel
might fill in some blanks. Enjoy - or not.
Looking for Love
by Tristmegistis
It's not every night you find a father sitting on his sixteen year
old daughter's bed crying his eyes out on her shoulder at two a.m.
Especially when he's wearing a white angora sweater, a short
black pleated skirt, and a shoulder length blonde wig. And, if his
daughter happens to be a male, at least between her silky thighs.
"Hush, Jenny," I whispered tenderly, blotting his mascara and
using the name he'd adopted when he'd begun cross dressing
several years before. "You're going to ruin your makeup and make
your eyes all red. You don't want Mom to know you've been crying,
do you?"
"Oh, Denise, I don't know what I want anymore! I feel so
confused about everything!" His voice was perfectly feminine,
even when he was upset - as perfect as the rest of him. He made
such a beautiful woman. In over five years of going out in public,
he hadn't been "made" even once, and his outings included our
annual beach vacation wearing string bikini's.
"I know," I replied softly.
He laughed and sniffed. "Yes, you're the only one who does,
the only one who could."
I kissed him lightly, tasting his ruby red lipstick. "Not true.
Denny does, in his own way."
That got another laugh. Denny was my paternal twin. Under
his cotton underwear was the anatomy of a female. We'd switched
names and roles about the time Mom first got Dad to dress up.
Ever since giving my sister my name, I'd used hers. Sometimes for
whole weeks at a time, I'd forget I'd been born male. I was Denise
now, and always would be. My brother was as happy with his life
as I was with mine - despite a few hard times for both of us. But
poor Dad was trapped in the middle. He was a married man, the
father of three children. He had a career under his male name,
and a whole lifetime of friends and memories and responsibilities.
But, with his wife and children's full support, he spent as much time
as he could as Mom's fictional sister, Jennifer.
As far as the rest of the world knew, Aunt Jenny lived with us
and had a job that required her to travel a lot. The neighbors got
used to seeing the pretty blonde sunbathing in the back yard or
going shopping with Mom. They also got used to her having a lot
of dates. After all, she was a very attractive single lady. She loved
dressing to the nines and being escorted to restaurants and clubs
and movies by handsome men. She went out a lot, but never
dated just one guy at a time, or any man for very long. Whenever it
started to get serious, Jenny broke it off.
And that had suddenly become a problem. Dad had been
dating a really wonderful guy named Steve for several weeks. I'd
seen them roll into the driveway around one that Saturday morning
after I'd spent two hours helping Jenny with her hair and watching
the fashion show of her trying on half the clothes in her closet,
looking for just the right look. With more nerves than usual, she
finally settled on the angora sweater and miniskirt .
"What's up?" I'd asked her as she rolled up her hose and
slipped into the black pumps.
"What makes you think anything's wrong?" she wondered right
back, innocent as a lamb.
But after dinner and dancing, they'd sat out there in Steve's
Camero for even longer than usual. Curious, I went downstairs
and found Mom standing in the dark living room in her nightgown,
looking out the window I'd been headed for. When I got close, I
saw tears glimmering on her cheek as she stared out at the car.
Following her gaze, I saw Dad's profile locked in a passionate kiss
with Steve. They embraced for a long, long time. I knew enough
about kissing to be able to tell that their tongues were dancing and
breath coming fast. Finally, they broke apart and looked like they
were talking. Steve lit a cigarette, filling the car with light for a
second, letting Mom and I both see Dad straightening his clothes.
I stepped up closer to Mom and hugged her from behind. She
relaxed into me and started sobbing softly. "It's all my fault," she
whispered. "Look what I did to him."
"Don't feel bad. You just helped him discover something about
himself, Mom. You know that. Remember how quiet and unhappy
he used to be all the time? Now he's so full of laughter and joy.
And you are, too. Usually, anyway. Why the long face now?"
"Because he's falling in love with someone else. Look at them,
honey. Did you see that adoration in both their eyes when Steve lit
his cigarette? Look! They're sharing it now, like . . . like . . ."
She didn't finish. She didn't need to. They were acting just like
lovers. I felt a stab of Mom's jealousy and pain, but some envy,
too. I wished almost every day I could find someone as wonderful
as Steve was to be in love with.
I'd reassured her that I wouldn't tell Dad what we'd seen. I'd
barely gotten her comforted when I heard Dad finally come in, his
heels clicking on the parquet floor. A few minutes later, he
knocked softly at my door. "Denise? Are you awake, honey?"
And then it all came out. Mom's fears were justified. Steve had
been becoming more insistent about going further than just heavy
kissing, and Jenny simply hadn't been able to resist. Her tearful
confession was filled with a confusion of shame and happiness.
At the club that night, they'd danced so closely that Jenny had
completely lost her senses. After having his erection pressed into
her belly all evening, it had been automatic to reach out and grasp
it as they kissed in the safety of their isolated booth. She'd nearly
fainted with the intensity of the sensations running up from her
beautifully manicured hand. His throbbing heat awoke an aching
need to satisfy the desire she'd kindled and fueled. By being her
highly feminine self, rubbing her lush body against him all evening
and parting her eager lips whenever he wanted them, she'd
awakened the beast within him. And now, she longed to satisfy his
need. Her own desire had been so wild that she'd barely had the
will to stop his strong hand from probing too far above the tops of
her silky black stockings.
"I forgot," she sobbed, "I forgot I was a man, honey! I was just
Jenny, and he was Steve, the man I love, and I wanted to have sex
with him!" Her cries got louder. "So I did!"
That stunned me. I knew exactly what he meant about the
pressure he'd felt, and exactly why he'd succumbed and how he'd
done it. I had, too. But for me the after effects hadn't been so
totally devastating. For me, the lingering taste of Robby's semen
and the memory of the silky texture of his penis were things that I
still treasured six months after it'd happened that first time. We
were doing it weekly now, and I even let him open my bra and
suckle on my lovely little breasts until I, too, had an orgasm. But
Dad didn't have that luxury. My breasts were real, while his were
only the best falsies money could buy. And I never had to pretend
I was a man in any way but one.
They'd done it in a lover's lane by the lake. Jenny had adored
every moment of her first taste of oral sex. I knew what she meant
about the utterly feminine feeling of having an aroused male
member inside me. It was so perfect, so right, even if it was in my
mouth instead of a vagina. But Steve had groaned and hissed that
he was there, and she'd backed off and masturbated him until he
ejaculated in his handkerchief. Instantly, Dad had freaked and
demanded to be taken home. On the way, he'd had to stop at a
gas station and vomit.
"I realized," he told me, "that I was kneeling in a woman's
restroom, that I'd dashed in there without even thinking about it.
There I was, wearing heels and hose and ruined makeup, hugging
a toilet after giving a blow job. It was horrible. I must have been in
there for at least a half hour. I know Steve was worried sick,
waiting for me. The poor darling felt so guilty! Like he'd raped me
or something. He must have apologized a hundred times on the
way home."
"So what were you talking about in the driveway?"
Dad had blushed and cried even harder at that. "I was trying to
break up with him - but I couldn't make myself do it."
As far as I could tell, that was the only horrible part of it. Being
bi-sexual isn't anything to be ashamed of, but falling in love with
someone else when you're married is another story. There was
nothing I could say to him to take off that load of shame.
"About all you can do is have the same talk with Mom as you
had with me, Jenny."
"I can't!" she wailed. "She'd hate me! How could she possibly
love a cocksucking queer like me!"
"Hush!" I said sharply. "You love Mom, and she loves you -
however you dress or whatever name you use. Don't forget that
she set you up on your first date, and has supported you all the
way along. She *adores* Steve, Dad. She must have some idea
about how you two feel. Give her a break. I know you can work
through this."
Pretty lame, but it was the best I could do.
It was kind of reassuring to come downstairs in the morning and
see Dad in his sheer black teddy and robe, watching the Sunday
news programs and reading the paper. Especially since Mom was
decked out in her own pretty lingerie and wore a satisfied smile. I
tried to hide my own grin from both of them. I couldn't tell if they'd
talked or not, but I was pretty sure they'd done something else.
Seeing them both so relaxed and happy made me pretty sure
everything was under control.
I trucked off to the mall to hang with some of my friends and
play the see-and-be-seen game outside the arcade. It was a good
time, especially when Robby showed up and we got to spend a
little private time in his brother's van. The feel of his hard lips
against my soft ones, and the thrill of his hands squeezing my
breasts made me salivate with the need to drink his sweet cum.
But I played coy, teasing and flirting until he was half wild. I had
him believing my candy red lips were the best sex he'd ever have,
and making him earn them was crucial in keeping him happy. As I
licked him clean, savoring the last bit of sperm I could milk from
him, I wondered briefly how Dad could ever feel bad about
something so miraculous.
The peace and harmony of the morning was shattered by the
time I got home that evening. My happy glow evaporated the
second I came through the front door. There were two wine bottles
on the coffee table, one empty, the other almost full. Two lipstick
crescented glasses sat beside them. Dad was quailing on the
sofa, wearing only a lacy black bra and matching panties. Mom,
equally unclad, was pacing back and forth in front of him, half-
screaming at him.
" . . . spineless little wimp! How could you promise to see him
again tonight! Do you love him more than you do me? Answer me,
damn you!" Her voice was pretty slurred.
Dad was trying to answer her, but she wasn't giving him a
chance. "It's either Steve or me! Until you decide, you'll sleep in
your own room!"
When she saw me hovering in the foyer, Mom burst into tears
and dashed a little drunkenly upstairs. Dad just trembled on the
couch looking shell shocked. I took a step toward him, but he
waved me away with a freshly manicured hand. "Go away, honey,"
he said numbly, obviously more than a little wasted himself. "I
need to be alone for a while." He reached for his wine glass.
Swallowing my own tears, I went upstairs. On the way down the
hall, I could hear Mom alternately sobbing and cursing through the
master bedroom door. Feeling horrible, like I was responsible, I
quietly went to my room and closed the door.
It used to be the real Denise's room. I recalled the first time she
and our older sister Linda had dressed me in their clothes. A part
of me had realized, right then, what I was. From there to now all
seemed so perfectly natural and logical. But, if I'd been different,
Mom would never have been able to tease Dad into his first dress
and makeover. If I hadn't shouted with joy at the chance to go on a
two week vacation entirely as a girl, he'd never have done it, either.
If I hadn't been so enthusiastic about how much I loved playing like
I was a pretty little girl named Diane, neither he nor Mom would
have had to go through this. For the first time in five years, I
sincerely hated who I was and felt like my whole life was one huge,
perverted lie. If I'd had the balls to be a real boy, like I was
supposed to be, then both my parents would have been fine.
I could still hear Mom yelling what was probably obscenities, but
I couldn't make out any words. Then, after a while, I could tell that
Dad had come upstairs, and that she was screaming curses at him,
not at the walls. I heard the surprisingly loud sound of the slaps as
she struck him. Then things calmed down a little, and I began to
pray it'd be okay. The only noise was Mom occasionally barking a
loud sentence. I never heard Dad say anything.
Then, with amazing clarity, I heard Mom's voice. She was in the
hall. Her words were a kind of sneer. "Darling, it's about time for
your date to pick you up. Get your sleazy ass downstairs. A slut
never keeps her studs waiting."
"Please," I heard Dad say in Jenny's voice. They'd both had
even more to drink by the sound of things.
"Please what?" she mocked.
"Please don't make me do this."
"It's your decision, Jenny. Either you do it, or I make your photo
album public property and sue for divorce. You can have
everything you want - but only if you do it my way."
Dad was near tears. "I'll give him up! I'll never see Steve or
anyone else ever again! I'll burn all my clothes! I'll never -"
"It's too late for that, whore. You've promised all that before.
Every time, you've begged me to let you start again. You've never
been able to quit and you never will. Especially now that you've
tasted your first cock."
"No!"
With impeccable timing, the doorbell chimed, interrupting Dad's
violent protest. There was a momentary silence, then Mom spoke
again. But her voice was entirely different, like Steve's arrival
shocked her sober.
"Go on, honey. Let's not fight any more, okay? It has to be
done. I think we both know that."
I heard Jenny clear her throat. "Will you kiss me goodnight?"
They exchanged whispers I couldn't make out, then one of them
laughed a little. I heard their bedroom door close.
I wasn't sure what was happening, but I was positive I had to
stop it. I heard Dad's heels click on the stairs as I got to my door.
My bare feet didn't make any noise as I raced down the hall. But
Dad already had the door open by the time I reached the landing.
My shout of warning died in my throat at the same time that Steve
gave a loud wolf whistle.
"Well, hello, doll! Look at you! Jesus, Jenny!"
Dad was decked out in clothes I'd never seen before, but which
he wore easily, like they weren't exactly new to him. His torso was
encased in a black corset, which showed clearly through his
transparent white blouse. His waist was cinched down to tiny
proportions, and a black leather micro-mini wrapped from there to
his round derriere. His legs seemed to go on forever, encased in
black mesh hose and capped with the tallest heels I'd ever seen.
He moved well in them. As he spun, like a model on a runway, I
got a clear look at the deep, more than believable cleavage on
display and the streetwalker type makeup he wore. His slim
fingers gleamed with rings, hoops dangled from his pierced lobes,
his smile was red and lusty, and we wore a longer than usual
blonde wig.
"Ready to party, handsome?" she asked Steve in the most
seductive purr I've ever heard, taking his cigarette from his slack
hand and taking a deep drag.
"As long as we do it at my place," he replied.
Jenny took his arm, pressed her boob against it. "That might be
arranged, if you play your cards right." She rose on her toes and
lewdly licked his lip with her tongue. Her hips bumped his as she
laughingly pushed away his sudden grope for her glistening scarlet
mouth. "Ah, ah. Good things come to he who waits, lover."
Her arm was around his waist and his hand caressing her tight
rear all the way to the car. Her legs flashed in the streetlight as
she swung them into the car. I could clearly see the black slash of
her garter in contrast to the pale white of her thigh.
I trudged back to my room, dumbfounded. My head spun, but a
picture gradually emerged. Jenny was out to get laid. There
hadn't been any coercion in her eyes in the foyer. Mom might have
forced her out of their bedroom, but she hadn't left against her will.
Clearly, Mom's threatened blackmail was little more than a way to
give Dad the excuse to do what he wanted to do anyway. It finally
dawned on me - duh! - that that's exactly what he'd done all the
way along. Mom had just picked up on offhand comments, maybe
even before any of us kids were born, about Dad's secret desires.
I'd always believed that she was responsible for the whole strange
family gig - that Denny, Dad and I had been manipulated somehow
into becoming what we were.
I mean, the words out of my mouth and the surface thoughts in
my pretty blonde head were all rosy and grand, but a part of me
had always known I had a way out - I could blame the whole thing
on her, if I needed to. It wasn't my fault. I was just a kid.
Malarky. I turned off my light and stared at the black ceiling.
My nails were busily rolling my nipples, coaxing them to
hardness. God, the way Dad'd looked! He was begging to be
fucked. Not just let Steve's ripe hardon slip between her slick lips,
but feel it deep in her guts, buried in her boy-pussy. Even I,
deepthroat artist that I was becoming, hadn't done that. I'd
discovered Mom's dildo the year before, and opened myself with it,
but never had the real thing. Oh, fuck! What would it be like to
dress like an open invitation for wet sex?
My hands were quite busy when the next knock came. I made
frustrated fists as Mom eased the door open. "Honey?"
I sighed. "Come on in, Mom. I wasn't asleep." She sounded
tight as a drum, ready to explode.
"How could you be after that tantrum I threw. I'm sorry, baby.
So sorry. I should explain something."
"I know, Mom. Dad talked to me last night."
"He told me all about it. But I'm not sure you really understand.
How much do you know about our personal life?"
"Personal?" I asked uncomfortably, even though I was pretty
sure I understood.
"Intimate."
I blushed, happy it was too dark for her to see me. "Uh, not
much. I, uh, don't usually think about you and Dad, uh, you know .
.. ."
"He wasn't really honest with you," she blurted. "He's not as
innocent as he told you he was. He . . . we . . ."
More impressions sank in slowly while Mom looked for words.
How graceful he was in those stiletto pumps, how comfortable in
the corset. Mom took a deep breath and forced herself to go on.
"We used to pretend. We did it a lot, starting that first vacation.
After his first date when he kissed Mike goodnight, while we were
making love he asked me to pretend I was him. I made love to him
with a, uh, false penis. I taught him to use his mouth on it. It was,
well, wonderful for both of us. The way his face looks when he . . .
oh, I'm sorry, baby. I'm embarrassing you."
"It's okay, Mom. I think I need to know, and you need to talk
about it to somebody who can understand - just like Dad did."
She nodded in the dimness. "You're sure?"
"Positive."
"Then you should see something else." She bent for the lamp
switch. In its blinding light, it took me a moment for my eyes to be
sure I was seeing right. Mom was decked out every bit as trashy
as Dad had been, only all in black leather. And she looked every
bit as at ease as Dad had. Her dripping red lips shaped an ironic
smile. She flipped scarlet talon tipped hands out dramatically and
sang, "Ta Da! Mistress Lori at your service."
I clapped my hands over my lips. "Mother!" I blurted, "My God -
you look awesome!"
Her corset made her breasts bulge ominously and her waist
smaller than mine. I caught a glimpse of black lace panties from
beneath the skin tight excuse for a skirt. The seamed hose looked
like real silk. For an instant, there was a bit of a predatory gleam in
her eye as I studied her body and face in detail. I'd obviously been
blind to a big part of my parent's life.
"You don't think I look ridiculous? Or frightening?"
"Hardly! You're super hot! No wonder Dad . . ." I caught
myself, bit my tongue.
"Will do anything I suggest? No dear. That's not why."
She gestured tiredly to herself. "He bought me this. He does
my makeup. He waits on me hand and foot. I don't mind. Really, I
enjoy it. But it's not enough. Nothing's been enough."
"It was his idea, wasn't it?"
She nodded, running her nails through my shoulder length hair.
"I told him about the fun you and the girls had dressing you up.
>From then on, I just followed his lead." She looked from me to the
window. "I still am."
"The vacation when I . . ?" I asked with a dry mouth.
She nodded.
"*His* vacation? The whole Aunt Jennifer thing?"
"He never came right out and *asked* but he made weird jokes
about an all girl family for weeks. I surprised him with the whole
makeover and dress up thing, but it was the gift he'd been hinting
for." She glanced sharply down at me. "Not that I wasn't more
than willing, mind you. You can't blame -"
"I don't blame anybody, Mom. Not for what I did, anyway. I
really am Denise. I love it. Usually."
"But . . ." she prompted, her mother-like tone at complete odds
with her wanton, slutty appearance.
"Well," I confessed, "a little while ago when you talked so dirty
and kind of threatened Dad . . ."
"I was a little mean, but I was right." She didn't sound like she
was celebrating it, though. "I had to do it that way to get through to
him."
"To get him to do what? What was it about?"
Mom rocked back, carefully lacing her fingers over her knee.
"He told you last night was the first time, didn't he?"
"It wasn't?" I wondered, incredulous.
"No. It happened at least twice before, when he was away on
business. I didn't know until he confessed. He'd packed some of
his special clothes and makeup - like what you saw tonight - and
let himself be picked up in hotel bars. He swears he didn't intend it
to happen, but I'm sure he's not being honest with himself. He
claims it was either be raped or give them oral sex." She gave me
a quizzical look. "He loves the taste of sperm, you know. I've had
him masturbating into his mouth for years."
"But he said . . ."
"That it made him sick?" she guessed.
"That he had to make Steve stop -"
"So he could fix his makeup, the little tramp" she finished.
There was a little silence. I finally asked again. "But what's he
doing? Is he going to let Steve . . . do it?"
"I don't think it'll be the first time even for that, baby. I think your
father's been getting his ass fucked for some time. I'm positive
he's still taking his favorite clothes on the road. I've tried to call his
hotel rooms late at night, and he's still been out. I'm afraid he's
been fucking regularly for a year or more."
"So you made him - I mean - let him kind of go public? Let him
do it in front of you?"
She sighed. "When he told me about Steve - and he didn't try
to pretend with me that he didn't adore doing it - I knew that's what
he was after. Really, I wondered a long time ago if it wouldn't end
up this way. With Jenny becoming the brazen slut you saw
tonight."
I tried a lopsided grin. "Well, she sure wasn't shy. I was awful
surprised she was so good at it. Steve was ready to creme his
jeans in two seconds flat."
"Was she that good? I wish I could have seen it." Her voice
was getting more throaty. Her darkly painted eyelids were
drooping. "God, she was beautiful standing there in the hall. She
begged me to lube her ass with my fake cock. She took all ten
inches, then licked it clean, telling me that Steve wasn't that large.
She fixed her lipstick and I let her out of the bedroom, her ass
already open. By now, she's probably on her knees, full of cock,
humping him like a bitch in heat and making up reasons why he
can't fuck her nasty cunt."
She shook herself out of her guttural fantasy. Her nipples were
trying to rip through her leather bodice and I could scent female
excitement emanating from between her legs. There was pain in
her eyes.
I swallowed. "You're not jealous?"
"No, baby. Not really. He loves me with all his heart. I know
he'll never leave us. It's just that I get so lonely for him. For a
man."
I astonished myself with my response and the awesome power
of the impulse. I reached out and fondled her heavy breast. She
hissed and jerked, but didn't pull away. I tickled her inner thigh
with my other hand. "Well, I may not be much of a man, but . . ."
That night happened over a year ago, and there've been a lot of
changes made. We never call Jenny "Dad" any more. That'd be
even crazier than calling me Denny. He quit his job rather than try
to live as a man. With Mom's approval, they spent a lot of their
savings on semi-legal surgery that gave Jenny the ripe, firm 35-C
jugs she loves to show off. Her throat is slim and delicate, and
hormones are making her ever more feminine. Her clit still works,
though barely. She works part time as an exotic dancer in a gay
bar downtown. I'm pretty sure she's not above turning a few tricks
on the side. At least some of the guys she's always out with treat
her like a hooker, and there always seems to be enough money to
make ends meet.
She and Mom double date sometimes with some pretty
questionable looking guys. I guess maybe that if Jenny really is
hustling, she may have dragged Mom in, too. She's still following
Jenny's lead. Not that Mom's unhappy. She's having the time of
her life, and her daily wardrobe has become almost as slutty as
Jenny's, and she's never lacking a bed partner when she wants
one. Or more. Jenny, the gossiping little slut, insists that she and
Mom took a barful on once and that Mom fucked them three at a
time all night long.
Steve's still around sometimes, but he's usually hosing Mom
instead of Dad. I caught them in a wild threesome a week or so
ago. Jenny was getting it in the ass and licking Mom off while she
and Steve kissed. I'll never know what I'm going to walk in on any
more. Usually, though, it's just Jenny getting porked. At least
Mom's more discrete. My former father's a total nympho cunt.
I've even had her. Since that night I balled Mom, I've loosened
up a little, too. Oh, I'm not a total slut like they are, but after
screwing both your Mom and Dad on a regular basis - and being
fucked by them, too - things can't help but change. I've found out
that there are lots of guys and girls out there willing to accept me
for what I am, and love me for it.
The love I'm looking for isn't the same kind my parents have. I
just hope I find mine like they did.